


birds of a feather

by theprimrosepath



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies, F/F, Inferiority Complex, POV Glimmer (She-Ra), Pre-Femslash, Threats, except more like belligerent sensual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprimrosepath/pseuds/theprimrosepath
Summary: Glimmer's chained up, and Catra wants to play with the toy.





	birds of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> majorly unedited, but i'm impatient when this has been stuck in my head for ages, and the glimtra tag (1) is so small and (2) doesn't have any content of the dynamic i _really_ want. (this is also pre-glimtradora if you're looking for it.)
> 
> sorry in advance. but i hope you enjoy!

Claws trace the line of her jaw, and Glimmer shivers.

“So soft,” comes the murmur. The tip of a claw presses into her cheek, and Glimmer sucks in a breath—but it stops just bare of breaking skin. “Like a cloud. And just as high above us, too.”

The restraints hold her wrists fast, but Glimmer yanks on them anyway. She's getting out, _without_ a rescue party. Either they give or her powers recharge on their own, whichever comes first.

"Oh, stupid Princess." A hand wraps around one of her wrists and squeezes tight, holding it in place. The pads are velvet on her skin, and the fur tickles the inside of her wrist. Glimmer would twist out if the chains weren't holding her back. "You're not getting out that way. Don't chafe that pretty skin of yours."

"This isn't the trap Shadow Weaver stuck me in," Glimmer spits. "I'll get out eventually."

Catra's warm exhale of a chuckle brushes her collarbone. "You think I'm _trying_ to keep you here? Please. I know you'll teleport out of here as soon as your sparkles come back." Furred fingers go to Glimmer's chin, and a claw tip taps teasingly against her jaw. "The only question is how long that will take."

Glimmer grinds her teeth. But she doesn't say anything.

Catra wants her here for a reason. If she's not getting out anytime soon—she can't let Catra know that—she might as well make herself useful this time and try to find out as much as she can while she's here. About what the Horde is planning. And why some of the strength in Adora's face always crumples when she's brought up.

The claws are back to tracing, this time down her neck. "Look at all the flesh on these bones. Princesses eat well, don't they?"

"Like I'll tell you what reserves we have."

The responding laugh makes Catra sound more like a dog than the felines she resembles. The brush of fur on her neck becomes a firm hold, and Glimmer stiffens. "Don't kid yourself," Catra hisses into her ear. "Maybe some of the other Princesses know what they're doing, but you? You're just a child playing soldier."

Claws dig into the flesh of her neck. Glimmer swallows down the instinctive whimper.

_Don't be weak. Don't let a Horde soldier best you._

"Let me tell you about your _reserves_. That Castle of yours, all of your _castles_ —" Catra spits this word. "—have all the food your royal heinies could ever wish for. Don't forget, I've seen what your kind think of wartime. Feasts and music and fancy _balls_."

The claws release from her neck. Glimmer exhales in relief—

Only to cut herself off with a shriek as the claws slash down her arm.

Indifferent, Catra pulls back her hand to examine it in the dim light. "Hm. So it is red."

Glimmer gasps. Her shoulder burns with the blood she can feel welling and dripping down her arm. "Don't pretend we're not people," she snaps. "We're not the ones raiding villages and burning them down."

"And what do you do to stop that, hm? What do any of you?"

Catra's hand reaches out toward her again, and Glimmer flinches—no, she can't be _afraid_. But Catra only wipes the blood off on Glimmer's tunic.

A spark of anger lights. "We have our alliance," she pants. "We will defeat you."

"An alliance that only formed because of She-Ra." Catra's innocent voice turns venomous with her last word. She grasps Glimmer by the chin again, and Glimmer struggles vainly against her shackles. "All those people dying at our hands. And you sat there trembling in fear in your pretty little castles dressed in silk, eating your fancy dishes and drinking your wine.

Catra leans in, lip curling. "A legendary warrior Princess had to force you all to protect your people. You disgust me."

 _Not Bright Moon,_ Glimmer wants to snap. Never Bright Moon. But she bites back the words. Catra's words aren't true—they're not. And they're an alliance again. She can't just throw the other Princesses to the wolves like that.

"But don't worry," comes a voice now dripping with rotten honey. "In a way, I understand."

The tips of claws scrap her jaw again as Catra grasps the side of her face. Glimmer freezes, stock-still. Her shoulder still stings with warm blood.

"You're just like what I used to be," she murmurs, smirk crooked. "A shadow in the light of someone else's greatness."

Glimmer's heart goes cold.

The claws caress her cheek almost tenderly. "You try so hard to stand out. To be the perfect little soldier in this war. You reek of it. Bet you weren't expecting Adora to outshine both you and everyone else, huh?"

"You don't know me," Glimmer whispers.

"Oh, I understand more than you think." Catra leans in again, so close her breath brushes Glimmer's lips. She shivers again. "Keep fighting your war if you want, Sparkles. Pretend that you know anything about it behind those delicate spires of yours. But from one sidekick of Adora's to another: don't expect to be anything more than a twinkle in her eye."

Glimmer wants to retort—with something. Anything. But no words will come.

That bitterness, though. She _hates_ it.

Catra smiles, and the expression stops far short of reaching the sour rage in her eyes. She releases Glimmer's face and, as she takes a step back, says loudly, "Someone fetch a rag and clean our prisoner's shoulder."

She turns on her heel and leaves. Glimmer slumps in her chains from the respite.


End file.
